


the age of burning fields

by penhaligon



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:19:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penhaligon/pseuds/penhaligon
Summary: In the space between the emergence of the Calamity and the onset of a new age, Impa resolves to wait.





	the age of burning fields

A storm brews outside of Kakariko. Gray clouds rage beyond the cliffs, shot through with flickering, jagged silver, but though a cold wind whips through the streets and every fold of fabric, the storm skirts the village. Impa does not know if it is mere chance or something else that keeps the rains at a distance. If that something else is the nature of the village itself - hidden away, protected, said to be enclosed within ancient secretive magics woven by forebears so long ago that many doubt their existence at all. Or if that something else stands beside Impa, burning with a magic that leaves no room for doubt.

Impa's eyes cannot decide where to settle. Before her, a smaller storm of movement ensues as Purah and Robbie prepare for departure under Impa's direction. They work in a remarkably synchronized fashion when they aren't getting into petty arguments, and Impa has never before been so grateful for her sister's ability to charge ahead with abandon. In the eye of that storm, in horribly still contrast to the measured chaos, is Link. He lies motionless and broken in the covered wagon that will carry him to the Great Plateau. And at Impa's side, a voice speaks, trembling.

"If I'm unable to," Zelda says, "one of you must tell him that the Divine Beasts are the key to victory." Her gaze is fixed on Link, and her words quaver. She is filthy, ragged, and it takes all of Impa's self-control to rein in the protective instinct that demands that Zelda come inside and change and rest. But the Princess stands tall, unmoving, almost unblinking, so different from her usual restless energy. "Ganon has split itself in order to seize control of them, and that is a weakness that Link will be able to exploit when he returns. He must free the Divine Beasts and use their power against Ganon."

Zelda speaks with an inordinate amount of faith for all of the ifs and maybes and questionable timetables that Purah had put forth, but Impa bites her tongue and nods. She will not be responsible for dampening that faith. "The message will reach him. One way or another." The words place a pit in Impa's stomach, a seed of unease, and she faces Zelda, trying to see through the Princess's uncharacteristically inscrutable front. "What will you do?"

"The sword has asked me to bring it to a safe place," Zelda answers. Her hands begin to knead the dirty, fractured sheath of the Master Sword clutched in her grasp, but her eyes never leave the wagon. She doesn't meet Impa's gaze, and Impa watches her more closely. "Where it can wait for him."

Impa glances at Link and sees through the blanket and bandages that Purah has covered him with, sees the crisscrossing gouges burned into his skin, into her mind’s eye. “I’m going with you,” she says, facing Zelda again. "The least I can do is escort you."

Finally, Zelda stirs, tearing her eyes away from Link and looking at Impa. "I hardly need protection," she says, and her voice catches on the last word. Her right hand flexes; faint triangular outlines gleam there, etched into her skin in gold.

"I know," Impa says evenly.

Zelda looks at her a moment longer, and a not-quite-smile crosses her face. She nods, and her eyes return to the flurry of movement that surrounds Link, as her hands cease their kneading.

Impa watches her, frowning, trying to place the atypical calm. Is it shock? Or is it some divine, stately energy that now possesses the Princess, replacing her usual restlessness? Whatever it is, Zelda has never acted more like a queen before this day, and it unnerves Impa. The Princess has hardly said a word outside of her questions and instructions for the three of them, but Impa knows that some turmoil must be lurking within. Zelda's calm is that of a storm's eye, of a deep breath before a plunge, and Impa cannot determine whether it is merely that she is trying to hold herself together for their sakes or something else. Something deceptive.

She isn't used to her senses failing her in matters of the Princess in this way. Receiving no further insight from her scrutiny, Impa keeps a sigh to herself and reaches out, resting a hand on Zelda's shoulder. "I must speak with the elder. I'll only be a moment."

Zelda nods again, but her eyes are far away, and Impa isn't entirely sure that the Princess heard her. Reluctantly, she leaves Zelda's side and makes her way to the lowest level of the village. The elder is outside, at the foot of the stairs leading up to her house, surrounded by a cluster of people. She appears to be reassuring them, but when she catches sight of Impa, she excuses herself.

"You're leaving," the elder says, coming forward to meet Impa. She was once the same height as Impa is now, but age and responsibilities have bent her back. She looks up at Impa with a piercing gaze, and Impa feels many other eyes on her as well - the people of Kakariko, watching her in the same way that they watch the elder.

Impa tries to swallow, finds it difficult. "I won't leave the Princess to fight alone."

The elder nods. "You have always been steadfast in your responsibilities," she says. "And the Princess is one of them. But so are we."

Impa says nothing, only stares at the elder, waiting.

"Our numbers have taken a hard blow," the elder continues, voice heavy with grief. "But what you did to bring so many of our people back here alive... you will be the next elder, Impa. I can see it among the people already."

Hyrule Castle had fallen fast, despite the last stand made by the Champions and the people. The escape from that destruction is hazy in Impa's memory - a blur of fear and fight, of gathering the Sheikah not yet dead and several Hylians who had fallen in with them and leading them southeast, dodging Guardians and monsters alike. A blur of making hard choices that will haunt Impa for the rest of her life. She cannot help but feel that a result of those choices lies behind her in the wagon, last breaths rattling in his chest. The pragmatic part of her knows that her presence would not have made much of a difference, had she chosen to seek out the Princess rather than lead her people to safety. She does not regret the saved lives, Sheikah and Hylian, that now hide safe in Kakariko. But despite any and all logic, it feels as if the trade-off was the life of a dear friend.

"You don't know that," Impa says half-heartedly. They've had variations of this conversation before, and she's heard those words from others before. They've followed her all her life, it seems. Or rather, followed her name.

"I wouldn't have been chosen as the elder if I didn't know things," the elder says frankly. "I've gotten old, my dear. I still have some good years left, but the time for a new leader is coming faster than you think. And when that time comes, the people will choose you. You were born for this, to lead us in this dark age. Your mother knew that. So you _must_ come back to us." The elder takes Impa's hand in her own. "Go with the Princess. But come back alive."

When Impa returns to the east entrance, it is with a heavy heart and tight throat. The wagon is loaded and ready; the Sheikah slate rests at Purah's side now. Purah and Zelda speak quietly, heads bent together, and Impa catches Robbie's gaze. He leaves the horses and comes forward, and she reaches out to clasp his arm in silent encouragement.

"Take the Dueling Peaks road," she tells him, even though it's a slightly longer route. "You'll find far less Guardians that way." The warriors had told her of the field near Dueling Peaks where they'd found Zelda and Link. It had been littered with Guardian corpses - a fleet of them taken out by the Princess and the Hero. The Sahasra Slope, on the other hand, is not kind to wagons, and the area past Sahasra had been a nightmare to traverse. Not everyone that Impa had led from Castle Town had made it through alive. "We'll meet back here. If you return before I do, wait for me, but not for too long." She has every intention of surviving, but even she cannot know the future with certainty. "I think," Impa takes a breath, "I think it would be best to split up after this. For safety. I can't leave Kakariko, but you two must find other places to lie low."

Robbie nods, grave. He pats her arm. "At least one of us will be around to help Link whenever he wakes up. We won't fail again."

Impa can't tell if he believes his own words or not, but she manages to summon up a smile, weak though it is. Then, to her surprise, Robbie inclines his head to her in a brief bow. Before Impa can react, he murmurs a farewell and pulls away, heading back to the wagon to offer Zelda similar respects and finish hitching the horses, as Purah faces Impa.

They gaze at each other a moment, evaluating. Things that need to be said aren't voiced, restrained by Purah's aversion to emotional expression and Impa's careful discipline. But this will not be a final goodbye, Impa thinks. Neither of them will allow it. "You come back," is all that she says.

Purah regards her for a moment longer and then grins. "You're not getting rid of me that easy, little sister."

"Hmm," Impa hums, her mouth twitching, "on second thought..."

"My own sister!" Purah exclaims, placing a hand over her heart. Then she lifts it and snaps her fingers. "We'll be back like that. And who knows, maybe Linky will too."

Impa knows that Purah does not believe her own words, that her cheeriness is obviously, painfully forced, but she nods.

Zelda has climbed up into the wagon bed. She leans over Link, stroking his hair back from his face and whispering to him, and Impa does not listen as she nears. When Zelda becomes aware of the sisters' approach, she places one last kiss on Link's forehead and slides out of the wagon, letting Impa take her hand to assist her. As soon as Zelda is firmly on the ground, Impa reaches into the wagon to place a light hand on Link's arm in farewell. His skin burns under her fingers, and she grimaces. At least he is not deathly cold. Not yet. The likelihood that his life will slip from him before they reach the Plateau is high, and that is part of Purah's impossibly long estimates.

 _You come back too,_  Impa thinks, squeezing Link's arm. _I can wait._

Robbie vaults up to the spring seat, Purah settles down next to Link, and the wagon sets off in a rush, following the east road that will wind south and west in time and take them to the Great Plateau and the Shrine of Resurrection. A curve in the canyon takes them out of sight well before Impa is ready to look away. She and Zelda are left standing there, watching an empty road, as the biting wind whistles against the stone.

* * *

The eye of the Sheikah is said to have once represented precognition. It remains as a testament to many things – truth, knowledge, vigilance – but all of these things, as of late, have meandered down the way of the Sheikah’s legendary foresight. Muddled. Bereft of once-greatness.

The deliberate art of foresight has been lost for a long time, but a natural inclination persists in Sheikah bloodlines nonetheless. Usha sees on the night her second daughter is born. It is fleeting, ethereal, easily dismissed as fevered thoughts brought on by the pain of a difficult labor. But the ability to know is a practiced art still passed down through generations, and Usha’s mother had made sure to instill it and hone it in her.

Usha sees a blood-soaked triangle split thrice, sees a sword and a distorted Sheikah eye blazing harsh, hot blue, and knows that it is not imagination or hallucination.

The right of naming belongs to the mother. It is a simple ceremony that takes place a day after the birth, the mother’s health permitting, and when the time comes, Usha has had the space to reflect and make a decision.

“Impa,” she says, firm and clear. There is a collective, quiet stirring among those present, a murmuring that silences itself quickly. When presented with the reasoning, no one questions why the child is given such a fateful name. Usha is not the only one with the ability to know.

After some deliberation, the elder sends word of the birth and the name to the newly crowned King and Queen of Hyrule. Her message carries a warning, an urging to be wary, as a mere precaution.

It is the first portent of things to come.

* * *

They cross Sahasra and take the road that runs between Hyrule Field and the Lanayru Wetlands. Everywhere, they are met with ruination, sights and smells that make Impa feel sick and a sense of evil that rakes against her instincts like the edge of a knife. Fields and trees are scorched, and some still burn, a sign that Guardians or monsters have been here recently. Sickly splatterings of purple-black Malice coat the land in places, festering like open wounds. In the distance, settlements house no life, their people fled or dead and their buildings blasted and crumbled. Here and there are scattered weapons and belongings on the road and in the grass, evidence of mass exodus. Impa had been here very recently; the memory of the people's flight is a nightmarish blur, but the eerie emptiness that has replaced it is almost worse.

There are bodies, too, but she and Zelda go around them and do not look.

By the time they reach the road, the storm seems to have retreated from the area. Impa suspects in earnest that something divine shields them, something that radiates from Zelda like the ancient energy sources that Purah and Robbie have recently discovered. She and Impa follow a trail of destruction, but no danger rises up to meet them. The wind is their only company.

They ride side-by-side as they follow the road towards the Crenel region, and Impa cannot keep herself from glancing at Zelda and wondering. The Princess had spoken briefly about how she'd survived Blatchery Plain, saying only that her powers had finally awoken. Impa had known Zelda's mother for a short time before her death, and the few displays of the late Queen's magic that she had seen had not been particularly flashy. There had been no need for that in peacetime. Impa does not know what Zelda is truly capable of, only that - according to the warriors - she had left a battlefield of dead Guardians in her wake.

"What will you do after this?" Impa asks.

Zelda keeps her eyes ahead. They are approaching a turn in the road that will take them closer to the castle, close enough to see it in the distance, and she doesn't answer.

It is a form of response anyway. The unease that has taken root in Impa's stomach intensifies. "Princess," she says sternly. Zelda has never been good at lying, but she has never been quite so hard to read, either. "What are you planning?"

Zelda's hands tighten on the reins. Her horse tosses its head nervously, and Zelda automatically reaches down to pat its neck, murmuring soothing nothings. Finally, she shifts her head to look at Impa, although she doesn't quite meet Impa's eyes. "I will face Ganon," she says simply.

Impa pulls her horse to an abrupt halt. Zelda's takes a few more steps before she reins it in, guiding it to turn so that she can look at Impa more directly. "Alone?" Impa demands.

"I can restrain it," Zelda says, as if that makes it _okay_. "Nothing can be done about the destruction and Malice that has already spread, not without defeating its source, but I can keep Ganon from reaching even farther. And I can do that until Link comes back."

Impa's hands are shaking. She breathes deeply against the sudden anger that rises in her - useless, directionless anger, because she already knows that she can't argue against this. She can't ask Zelda to be selfish, not when so many people have suffered and so many more will. And she could not convince Zelda otherwise even if she truly wanted to. The Princess is not a lonely little girl desperate for a friend, for an older figure to fill the void left by her mother. She is grown and stubborn and single-minded. Nevertheless, something of a protest leaves Impa. "Upwards of seventy years," she says, pained. "That was Purah's _generous_ estimate." She doesn't give voice to Purah's less generous estimates, as if that would somehow alter them from possibility to inevitability.

"I know," Zelda says, barely audible over the wind. "I know, Impa."

All words die in Impa's throat at the realization that her reaction is making things harder for Zelda, the sudden certainty that Zelda hadn't told her until now because she'd known how Impa would react. Impa takes another deep breath around sorrow's vice-grip on her lungs. There is nothing she can do. She knows that, and yet accepting it is not so easy. "I'm sorry," she says, just as quiet. She thinks of the unearthly calm that infuses the Princess and almost chokes on the grief that is beginning to hit her in full. She swallows it with effort. Not yet.

Zelda sees it anyway and offers a tremulous smile. "So am I."

They hear it at the same time - a metallic creaking and whirring that Impa has already come to associate with death. She twists in the saddle as her horse starts, reaching for the bow at her back, but Zelda moves faster. The Guardian that comes barreling through the trees is met with golden light that arcs from Zelda's right hand, as the triangles etched there blaze and her horse rears in fright. The blue-pink glow of the automaton is snuffed out with a screeching death cry like metal clashing on metal, and it collapses on the far side of the road.

Before Impa can jump down to offer assistance, Zelda brings her horse under control with a firm but gentle hand. Distantly, Impa wonders when she learned to get along with horses so well. She wonders when the girl before her grew up so much. She wonders what else has changed, what else she missed. The looming threat of the Calamity has pulled them in different directions as of late, their paths meeting only to conduct and coordinate research with hardly a spare hour for friendship, and now...

But Impa banishes all of her thoughts, all but the task at hand. There will be time later for her own grief and regrets. It can wait until she is alone.

No more words of what is to come are exchanged; they are not forced to consider farewell yet, and so they don't. Instead, they continue on in companionable silence, past Crenel Peak and over the Thims Bridge, and for all that a few other enemies dare to challenge them and are met with swift retribution, for all that they cross a bloodstained ruin of a place that thrived so recently, they move without fear.

* * *

When Impa is sixteen, she is assigned to work in Hyrule Castle. The Sheikah and the royal family of Hyrule are close, and that relationship is evident in the makeup of the castle staff. Three Sheikah advisors are always on hand, accompanied by a fleet of scholars and creative minds who are part of the castle archivists and warriors who are part of the Royal Guard. The elder sends Impa to serve as an apprentice to the chief advisor, and Impa is keenly aware of what it means. Candidates for the next elder are expected to be worldly and experienced, and such traits cannot be honed within the confines of Kakariko Village. There are Sheikah living in Castle Town and other Hylian settlements, in Gerudo Town and other parts of the world, but it is the castle in which Impa finds herself. She knows that the elder considers her a favored candidate and that this assignment is a sign of that favor.

Purah is assigned there too, after a fashion. She has chosen the path of knowledge, and she follows where her research leads. When Impa is sixteen and Purah is nearly twenty, it leads to none other than the royals of Hyrule. Old tales are being excavated, rendering them more than Sheikah legend, and whispers of a fortune-teller's prophecy abound. The King and Queen take these things seriously, as warning signs of a possible impending threat, and so Impa and her sister find themselves working closely with the royal family on the matter.

Impa only just manages to contain her surprise when the King and Queen ask for her thoughts, amid an informal library gathering of advisors and researchers who deliver their opinions and reports to the royal family. It is her first meeting of the sort, with hardly a breath in between arriving at the castle and being asked to attend. She'd expected to be no more than an assistant to the chief advisor until she is older, but the King and Queen speak to her in the same way they address their senior staff, eliciting on her opinion on the recent discoveries.

After considering the topic for a few moments, Impa says, "My mother gave me my name because she saw something coming when I was born. I think it's wise to take precautions. Better to be over-prepared for nothing than not ready at all for something."

The King nods slowly. "And do you think something is coming? The elder told us that your senses are sharp."

Impa meets their gazes squarely. "I do." It has followed her all her life, the weight of her name and the undefinable, Sheikah-born certainty that it means something. Her name is as much a legend among the Sheikah as the technology being unearthed from Hyrule's soil, though it is even older, and it lingers around ancient stories of the Princess and the Hero and the dogged, hateful malice they combat again and again.

The King nods again and thanks her, promising that they will talk more later, before moving off to address Impa's mentor. The Queen lingers, offering Impa a soft smile. "I was sorry to hear about your mother," she says. "She was a remarkable woman and an old friend."

Usha had spent her younger years in Hyrule Castle as well. A familiar grief crowds in Impa's chest, and with practiced effort, she pushes it aside. "Thank you," she says. "She spoke of you sometimes and always with a smile."

The Queen's own smile grows a little brighter. She reaches out to take Impa's hand, and Impa's surprise at the unexpected openness is overcome by the feel of the Queen's hands beneath her fingers. They are warm, unusually so by just a few degrees, but Impa's senses stir, a fluttering of unease in the back of her mind. "If you need anything," the Queen says, "feel free to ask me." When Impa nods hesitantly, unsure of how to voice the whisper of concern that has risen up in her, the Queen continues. "Have you met my daughter yet?"

Princess Zelda is six years old. She is full of the beginnings of boundless scientific curiosity and an inclination towards talking and talking, and Impa is mostly unable to get a word in edgewise as the girl babbles excitedly about the relics that her parents had told her about. Impa absorbs her chatter, nodding every so often to show that she is listening, and thoughts of Purah spring to mind. Once the comparison is drawn, it is difficult to make a distinction between Zelda's rapid-fire speech and Purah's, aside from a difference in pitch and vocabulary size.

Impa had once asked her sister if she would ever consider putting her name in as a candidate for elder, and Purah had laughed to the point of tears. "As _if_ ," Purah had said, wiping moisture from her eyes and chuckling. In hindsight, it had been a needless question. Purah loves her research far too much to shackle herself to leadership, and Impa feels a sudden, unexpected wave of sadness as she listens to the Princess talk.

"You know, one of the researchers here is my sister," Impa says, in a rare moment when Zelda has paused for breath.

Zelda's eyes grow as wide as dinner plates. "Really?"

Impa nods. "Would you like to meet her?"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes, please! Where is she?" Zelda takes Impa's hand in one of her own, indicating with a commanding nod that Impa should lead her, and Impa smiles. She follows the sound of Purah's animated voice describing her preliminary observations of the relics, and soon two voices compete to be the most exuberant. Impa watches her sister and the Princess, still smiling, until a memory of warmth beneath her hand steals her smile away and reminds her of an issue that she hasn't yet addressed.

Her warning is not enough to save the Queen. It is the first time that they are all too late for something, and it is not the last.

* * *

Impa knows that no essence of the Calamity can make its way through the mist-shrouded forest before her, that no Malice can reach the sun-soaked forest behind. Nevertheless, she stands vigilant at the border between them, waiting, her eyes tracing the patterns of glowing mist that swirl through the Lost Woods and confound even her senses. At her back, she hears the indistinct rumbling of the Great Deku Tree's voice in the distance, a sound that vibrates through the very ground.

Time seems to hold no true sway here, and she doesn't know how long it is before she feels Zelda approach. The Master Sword is no longer strapped to Zelda's back; it rests within the Korok Forest now, safely waiting. Zelda says nothing of what transpired within, but there is an added lightness to her, small but noticeable. Impa wonders what the Deku Tree said to her, but she doesn't ask.

She takes Zelda's hand silently, and they leave as they came, staying close together, Zelda's golden glow lighting the dark confines of the Lost Woods and illuminating the path. This mysterious place has a peace to it, far removed from the reality outside of it - a muted, blanketing feeling, like senses do not matter here. It is maddening to Impa, and perhaps her nerves manifest in her grip on Zelda's hand.

Zelda glances at her. "Can I ask you something?" she ventures, as she walks the hidden path confidently.

Impa nods, following.

"You've grown up as the darling of the Sheikah clan," Zelda says. "Everyone expects you to become the next elder, because it was what they expected of your mother and because, well, you're you. You're..." Zelda searches for the right words, even though Impa has already heard the compliment in the simple statement, and gives up, "you're Impa." Zelda's expression becomes contemplative "But do you _want_ to be the elder?"

Impa doesn't falter. She keeps walking, half a step behind Zelda, and her mouth draws tight in contemplation. She's considered that very question many times, and always, she arrives at the same answer. "I want my actions to be worthwhile," she says. "I want to do right by our people. And if being the elder is the best path to that, then yes, I do." She doesn't approach it with the same zeal that Purah holds for her research, and once, she'd thought it had meant that she wasn't cut out for the position. But she knows better now. It isn't a position to be approached with enthusiasm. It is a heavy responsibility, and it demands gravity.

Zelda smiles and squeezes her hand. "There is no one better for the job."

As they finally exit the Great Forest, reality comes crashing down around Impa again. Wind howls, and swirling gray clouds block out the sun but do not rain on them, and distant unintelligible sounds of the Calamity's presence are carried on gusts, a gurgling echo that digs its claws into Impa's mind, whispering evil things. Impa filters through the sudden re-assault on her senses and focuses on Zelda. She keeps her attention on the Princess, committing her to memory, as they retrieve their horses and re-tread the roads they'd traveled. There are faster ways to reach the castle, but they take the road past Crenel Peak again.

At Rebonae Bridge, Zelda stops, dismounting. She stands at the cusp of the bridge and stares out in the direction of the castle. It looms in the distance, housing a malicious presence waiting to be challenged, a presence that throws its influence and power out over the land like a shadow, greedy fingers grasping farther and farther to steal life and spread destruction. It's been searching, Impa knows. A buzzing itch like jagged fingernails scrapes against Impa's senses, probing for the ones it seeks to destroy - one hidden away in the Shrine of Resurrection and one standing at Impa's side, cloaked by the divine.

Impa scowls and dismounts as well, and she and Zelda stand in silence for a while, watching.

"You can't come any farther with me," Zelda says softly, at last.

"I know," Impa says, hating it.

"Hyrule needs you still," Zelda says, and at last she turns to face Impa, putting her back to the castle. Though her eyes glisten, no tears fall. "I know it isn't fair to ask you to wait for so long, but-"

"It's alright." Impa's interruption is gentle. "You aren't asking. The situation demands it. That is no one's fault, except that thing's." She jerks her head in the direction of the castle. "I can wait as long as you need me to. It's an honor."

Zelda draws a shaky breath. Her alien calm is fracturing in places, no longer so all-encompassing, and Impa can see glimpses of the true Zelda through the cracks - scared, hurting, but determined. Zelda is silent for a few seconds, composing herself, before continuing. "Remember what I said about the Divine Beasts," she says, stressing the words, and Impa nods. "And... Purah and I discussed this already, but the images on the slate... they may be able to help Link remember, if Purah is right about his memory. I left only the ones that depicted places we visited together. Please tell him to seek out those locations if he needs to. And..." she takes another breath, "where he fell... I think visiting Blatchery Plain may help as well. But you must wait until he is ready to tell him so."

Impa nods, and an image of the intersecting wounds across Link's chest rises unbidden in her mind. "I will be here when he wakes up," she says, an iron promise that she will do everything in her power to keep. "And I will be here when you come back to us."

Once again, Zelda gives her that tremulous smile that seems to hold back a tide, and Impa's heart aches. There is nothing concrete that she can do, and yet she is desperate to offer something. Anything. Wanting to convey how proud she is, wanting to convey a hundred things that there is no time for, she says, "Zelda... there is more courage and wisdom and power in you right now than I have ever seen in anyone."

For a moment, Zelda wavers, and then the facade and the calm break at long last. Her face crumples, and she moves. Her arms wrap around Impa's neck, her head presses against Impa's shoulder, and she releases a heavy breath, a not-quite-sob. Impa returns the embrace, furiously blinking back emotion. The enormity of the situation ahead threatens to descend upon her in full force, but she steadies herself and focuses only on the present, on Zelda hugging her like her life depends on it.

"Thank you, Impa," Zelda says into her shoulder, muffled. "We will see each other again."

Once again, Impa is struck by her inordinate faith. Faith that Purah's work on the Shrine of Resurrection will suffice. Faith that Link will return to her despite everything. Faith that Impa will survive the long interval. Faith that things will one day be put right again. Impa has watched Zelda grow, watched her struggle with a power that never responded to her, watched her dedication and faith never amount to any reward until her knight lay half-dead at her feet. _You don't deserve her,_ Impa thinks, for any god that is listening. Let them strike her down for blasphemy if they want.  _You owe her._

Aloud, all she says is, "I know we will."

* * *

It is said that the royal family and the Sheikah were once buried together. Whether that had been true or not is left to legend. The people of Kakariko have their own burial sites now, and the Hylian royal family has been buried in the same place for several hundred years. That is how old the graveyard adjacent to the castle's cathedral is, but its size does not reflect the fact that it approaches a millennium. It feels small to an intensely personal degree, and Impa feels like an intruder.

Zelda is six years old and stares straight ahead as the headstone is placed at the Queen's grave. She doesn't cry, hardly moves, and Impa watches her with deep concern. She waits for the dam to break, for the young Princess to show any sign of age-appropriate grief at her mother's passing, but it never comes. She reacts like someone three times her age, silent and withdrawn, and Impa's urge to do _something_ grows stronger. The Queen's death is reviving recent memories of her own mother's passing, and Impa cannot just sit by while another daughter suffers under that inexpressible grief. She doesn't know if the King will be able to help his daughter in the way that she needs. He is a good ruler, but that does not guarantee that he is a good father.

After the priestess concludes the grave rites of the royal funeral, the procession makes its meandering way back to the castle for a reception offering food and rest. Impa moves as soon as it is appropriate. She drifts in the direction of the King and his daughter, observing Zelda. The Princess asks no questions and speaks only when spoken to, with none of the endless energy that Impa has come to associate with her, and hardly an emotion crosses the girl's face in the meantime.

With no plan of action, Impa approaches the royals as soon as the procession is ensconced in one of the banquet halls. She waits until the King has finished his conversation with the Rito ambassador and then gets his attention, bowing her head. "I'm sorry, my lord," she says. "I didn't know her very long, but I had already come to respect the Queen as a great woman and ruler. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you."

The King's face is drawn, exhausted, but he inclines his head in return and speaks easily, years of discipline mastering his grief. "Thank you, Lady Impa," he says. "And thank you for all that you did for her."

Impa shifts uncomfortably. "It wasn't fast enough." Even an early detection through her senses had not been enough to halt the rapid degeneration of the Queen's health. It is the first time that Impa's abilities have amounted to nothing with such a grave degree of consequence, and it haunts her now.

"Such is the nature of illness," the King says. "Regardless, you were the one to give us warning. I will remember that."

Impa nods. Her eyes flick to Zelda, who stands at the King's side, staring beyond the two adults, and then back to the King. "If I may talk to the Princess?" The unspoken _alone_ is loud and clear.

The King assents and is swept away by the many others who wish to speak with him. Impa and Zelda are left alone, and Zelda doesn't seem to notice. Impa stands there for a moment, terribly uncertain, then crouches down so that she is facing the Princess eye-to-eye. Zelda stirs, finally registering Impa's presence, and her eyes lock with Impa's. "Good evening," she says, rote, formal.

"Good evening," Impa echoes for politeness's sake. After an awkward pause, she continues. "I lost my mother, too. About a year ago."

Zelda blinks. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says, automatic and adult.

Goddess damn it. That isn't at all what Impa wants. "I'm sorry for yours," she says. "I know how hard it is to deal with. You... you might be feeling sad or confused, and... I want you to know that you can talk to me about it or ask me any questions you may have." Children don't understand death in the way that adults do, but Zelda is not a normal child with a normal upbringing, and Impa is unable to discern what she does and doesn't understand. "At any time you want. I'm not just your father's advisor, I'm yours, too."

Zelda stares at her for a moment. "Thank you," she says.

It's still a rote response and far too grown-up, and Impa has no inkling whether Zelda takes the offer to heart or not. She holds back a frown and casts her mind about for something else to say. She doesn't want to just leave it there. Glancing about the room for inspiration gives her nothing at first, except a rush of annoyance at the amount of people present. Zelda doesn't need stuffy officials talking over her. She needs peace and friends her own age and a mother to care for her, none of which she has.

Impa looks back at Zelda as a sudden idea takes form. "You can stay with me for the rest of the night." She'd been planning on retiring early, but she tosses those plans aside. "This crowd isn't too fun. If anyone tries to bother you, I'll chase them off. Like a bodyguard."

Finally, finally, Zelda's mask cracks. She smiles a six-year-old smile, and it's small and not as bright as it should be, but it's there. "Really?"

"Really," Impa says, rising from her crouch and offering her hand. Zelda takes it without hesitation. "Come. You need to eat something."

They move towards the refreshment tables, and true to her word, Impa - citing that she has the very important job of being the Princess's bodyguard tonight - shoos off every noble and official who approaches, save for Lady Urbosa, whom Impa is glad to find that Zelda takes to like a hatchling. Impa earns several affronted looks and ruffles a few feathers in the process, but the sound of Zelda's faint, concealed giggling as she hides behind is more than worth it.

* * *

Impa forces herself to watch. There is nothing further that she can do for Zelda, but she cannot bring herself to head back to Kakariko just yet. She tethers the horses to a tree, finds herself a perch on one of the high rocky outcroppings that dot the area, and settles down to wait.

At this distance, she can't see individual figures, but the brief battle illuminates half of Hyrule Field and draws her eye immediately when it begins. The light that burns before Hyrule Castle is Zelda, and Impa's heart takes up lodging in her throat as she watches the inky purple shadow of the Calamity descend upon the lone gold glow and devour it. For one horrible, sickening moment, there is nothing but darkness. Then, with an ongoing shriek of rage across the miles that drives into Impa's ears like shattering glass, the shadows are slowly, inexorably pulled into a swirling vortex that draws in tight.

A fierce light begins to burn in the castle's center, visible even at a distance. The shadows roil impotently around the castle and move no farther, greatly diminished, and Impa knows that Zelda succeeded.

Impa feels no satisfaction, no rush of even the faintest victory. Only an aching sadness fills her as she climbs down from her vantage point and returns to the horses.

She makes her way past the scorched fields, past the bodies and the destruction, retracing the paths that she and Zelda had taken to get here, the paths that Impa and her people had crossed in their mad dash to safety. Without the protection of Zelda's magic, she is forced to move more slowly and steathily, leaving the road and leading the horses to take cover often. It rains now, and the risk of starting a fire isn't worth it, so Impa eats her provisions cold. She doesn't stop to sleep or even rest. She pushes forward, until at last she reaches the narrow canyon road past Sahasra that winds through the mountains and leads to Kakariko.

She stops before the road, where the grass gives way to stone, staring down the rocky corridor. It has stopped raining, and the earliest hints of morning sunlight shine behind her, slowly drying her clothes, but the arrival of morning brings no comfort or clarity. She doesn't even know how long it's been. It blurs together with the arrival of Zelda and Link's broken body in Kakariko, with the fearful trek from Castle Town leading a mourning people through miles of territory now hostile and hateful, with the sudden arrival of darkness and death that had shaken and cracked the very stone beneath Impa's feet as she'd made a harrowing last stand. The thought of what lies ahead, of the many years of enduring that wait for her, of the many years of enduring that Zelda must shoulder... it is suddenly too much, too tiring.

Impa sinks down against the cliffside, back to hard stone, and lets herself cry at long last. She has never been one for many tears, and it's as if a lifetime's worth leaves her now all at once. She doesn't fight it; she doesn't have the strength for that. The tears come as they will, and Impa's body shakes with all that has happened in the span of a few days, that has changed her circumstances and this world so violently.

It feels like an age before the sobs slow down, but it is still early morning when the flow becomes a trickle. Morning light fights to be seen between the clouds that still linger, and orange sunlight slowly paints flickering stripes against the opposing cliff wall. Impa stares at them mindlessly until one of the horses leaves its grazing to drift over to her, snuffling at her side, searching for apples or carrots. It takes a little while for Impa to register the animal's presence, and when she does, she sighs.

"I don't have anything for you," she croaks. Her face is stiff and still wet, but no further sobs come. She feels utterly miserable and empty, but no longer quite so heavy. Breathing deeply, trying to steady her shakiness and ease the painful pressure building up behind her eyes, she climbs to her feet. The horse's head rises with her, and it huffs indignantly at the lack of forthcoming treats. "You can wait a little while," Impa tells it. "We're almost there." She strokes its nose and, with another sigh, leans into its neck, resting her forehead against its warm coat. It feels alive beneath her, and she focuses on that.

She brought the horses back alive. She brought so many of her people back alive. Zelda is alive, and Link stands a chance, if Purah has anything to say about it. Purah and Robbie will return, and Impa will take things one step at a time from there. If Zelda can have absolute faith, then so can she.

Impa remains there for a while, hoping that the signs of crying will fade from her face enough to go mostly undetected. She lets the warmth of sunlight sink into her skin, and she moves between the horses, stroking and soothing them. Her mind free-floats as she does, thinking of nothing in particular, a blessed feeling that eases some of the aching in her head. Finally, within the hour, she takes the reins and walks the horses down the road to Kakariko.

The elder is waiting for her, as if she'd known the moment when Impa would return. She probably had, Impa thinks, as she makes her exhausted way to the front of the elder's house.

"Are they back yet?" is the first thing she asks, even though she knows the answer. She's aware of someone taking the reins from her and leading the horses away.

The elder shakes her head, her face sorrowful. She opens her arms, and Impa leans into them, closing her eyes. She pretends they're her mother's arms.

"Welcome back," the elder says. She squeezes Impa in a hug and then steps back, searching Impa's face. "The Princess...?"

"She's trapped Ganon in battle," Impa says. Her voice seems to come from far away and belong to someone else, someone who is capable of speaking clinically about a situation that tears at her heart. "They're locked away in the castle, and she'll hold it there until Link returns to finish it off."

The elder frowns. "Your sister said-" She goes abruptly silent at the look on Impa's face. "Well," she says after a long moment, and her voice grows louder, addressing the crowd that has been growing since Impa set foot in the village, "we will not let the sacrifices of Princess Zelda and Master Link be in vain. We will do what we can to protect the world from the Calamity's remaining influence until they return. For as long as it takes." 

A murmur of assent rises from the people of Kakariko, quiet but resolute, and Impa can feel their eyes on her and the elder. Then, to her surprise, the elder bows to her. "And we thank you for your efforts in these past few days. There are many here who owe their lives to you, Impa."

Impa stares at the elder, at a loss for words. Again, that murmur rises, this time for her. And again, she thinks of the future, of the long road laid out before her and the many hearts that she must carry along with her own. She is aware of the sprawling village at her back, of its paramount importance, of the fact that it expects her to stand at its head. But this time, it doesn't overwhelm.

* * *

Impa stands within the King's immaculately organized study and watches the Champion of Hyrule lie to the King's face. She is caught somewhere between being impressed and appalled. In the time that she's known him, Link has been increasingly reserved, and sometimes it's easy to forget how brazen he can be when he puts his mind to it. His hands flash through his version of the week's events, relaying how he and Zelda had been beset by the Yiga Clan while leaving the desert and how he'd fought them off. At least, that's the gist of it - Impa isn't as familiar with Hylian sign language.

Zelda is in her own study while Link delivers his report, complete with his explanation that she is still shaken from the attack and needs rest and calm, but Impa can easily guess the real reason. The Princess is a terrible liar. Link, on the other hand, has an effortless way about it. It's good, utterly convincing, but Impa is Sheikah, and she knows better.

Link catches her eyes only once, a fleeting but communicative look. He knows that she knows. There is a passing sense of pleading in his gaze, before he returns his attention to the King.

"Thank you, Link," the King says, coming forward and resting a brief hand on Link's shoulder. "You have proven yourself to be an excellent protector for my daughter and a credit to Hyrule. Our family is forever grateful to you."

Link dips his head and signs his thanks, flourishing a hand out from his mouth.

"Please return to Zelda and tell her that I will be visiting her shortly," the King continues, "as soon as I clear up a matter with the Captain."

Link nods again, bows deep, and departs with another swift, barely noticeable look at Impa.

When he is gone, the King's shoulders drop with a sigh. "This is most concerning," he says, turning to Impa. "The Yiga are becoming more bold. They have shown their hand before, but to attack the Princess of Hyrule so openly? I fear it's another omen."

"No doubt," Impa says, not mincing words. She has had a growing sense of unease for a while now, and Link's mention of the Yiga had nearly doubled it, although she knows that some of it is merely her own complicated feelings getting tangled up with her senses. She has been struggling with that more and more as of late, not knowing whether her instincts are sometimes fabrications of nerves or not. "I'll send some of our warriors to inquire in and around Gerudo Town on the matter." The Yiga were once Sheikah, after all, and the Sheikah are best suited to handle them. "I'll speak to the Princess about it, too. If you have no further need of me, my lord, I'll get on that right away."

"Of course," the King says with a wave of his hand, and Impa makes a swift bow and heads for the door. However, the King speaks up again. "By the way, Lady Impa... the boy is a credit to you, as well."

Impa hesitates, looking back. "All I did was oversee his training," she says. All of the Royal Guard, whether Hylian or Sheikah, are trained in Sheikah techniques, but as Link's case had been a special one, the King had wanted special handling for it. "He cleared it on his own."

"And I suspect he got to that point as fast as he did because you are quite a tough supervisor."

Impa smiles faintly, accepting the compliment, but as she turns to go, she hesitates again, an idea striking her. "My lord... I'm sure the Princess is very exhausted from her ordeal." More likely that Impa will find her champing at the bit and all the more motivated to pursue whatever leads she can. The least Impa can do is try to arrange some space for her to do that. "Perhaps you could give her a reprieve from her training for a few days."

The King frowns. "If this Yiga attack is another sign of Calamity Ganon's return, her training is all the more important. The trip to Gerudo Town was reprieve enough."

"Yes, but as much as I pushed Link," Impa counters, "I also saw the value in letting him take a step back. Maybe the Princess will be able to approach her sealing magic with a clearer head if she has a little more room to breathe. It's not like their trip was restful."

The King nods slowly, but Impa gets the sense that she hasn't quite convinced him. "I will consider it."

Impa masters her frustration and excuses herself. Outside, she isn't surprised to find Link waiting for her in the hallway. They walk for a little while, until a decent amount of distance is put between them and the King's study. Then Impa glances at Link and, with the Sheikah signing she'd taught him, silently asks,  _What really happened?_

Link has the decency to look somewhat sheepish. His hands flick through an explanation.  _What I said. But she slipped away from me. That's how they were able to attack her. I barely got there in time._

Impa nods as the pieces fall into place, understanding why Link had omitted part of the truth. She sighs.  _I'll talk to her._

But Link looks pensive.  _I don't think you need to._

Impa eyes him, curious, and opens her left hand above her clenched right, extending a finger at Link. _Why?_

 _She seems..._  Link's hands float in the air for a moment, grasping for the right word, before he seems to give up and settle for a lesser one with a shake of his head, twisting the L-shape of his right hand a few times,  _different._

_How?_

_She keeps trying to talk to me._  Links appears utterly bemused.

It's all Impa can do to stifle a laugh. She doesn't transition to spoken Hylian, even though there is no need to be discrete anymore; the practice will do Link good, since he isn't getting it regularly anymore. _That is her natural state. Does it bother you?_

Link shakes his head quickly. _Just different._  

 _You saved her life,_ Impa says, fairly certain that it is the case for Zelda's change of heart.  _That can bring people together._ When Link nods, looking thoughtful, Impa clasps his shoulder for a moment before dropping her hand. _Thank you for keeping her safe,_ she continues, regarding him seriously. _I am proud to claim you as one of our warriors._

Link looks somewhat self-conscious at the praise. _Thank you for everything you and Master Kara taught me_.  _Because of that, I knew exactly how to disarm a..._ His hands flutter for a moment, the word escaping him, and he only mouths it and makes the sign for the moon instead.

 _Sickle,_ Impa signs, and Link repeats the gesture, committing it to memory.

They reach the Princess's study a moment later, and Impa knocks. When Zelda's voice invites them in, they step through and find her seated at her desk, scribbling intently. The room is like her - a whirlwind of scattered content that nevertheless has a kind of personal organization to it, one that Impa can only follow up to a point. Zelda closes her journal with a snap as she turns to greet them, rising from her chair. Her eyes immediately settle on Link, searching. "Ah... did you...?" But she hesitates, glancing very obviously at Impa. She really is terrible at lying, Impa thinks fondly.

 _She knows,_ Link signs, still in Sheikah. Zelda has more or less picked up on it from the days when she would follow Impa around and watch Impa's interactions with the warriors, wide-eyed, enough that she can understand somewhat.

"Of course you do," Zelda sighs, facing Impa squarely.

Impa steps around a pile of books and closes the door. "Your father won't hear anything about it from me," she says gently, and Zelda's defensiveness melts. "I trust it won't happen again?"

"No," Zelda says, and her eyes dart back to Link for a moment. "I... don't mind having extra protection. It was foolish of me to leave him behind."

Impa resists the urge to smile at the phrasing. Link has been trained by the Sheikah, and Impa herself had overseen that. It would take a bit more effort than simply leaving him behind to slip away from him. It speaks to Zelda's craftiness and determination, but Impa can't find it in herself to be annoyed, not when Zelda stands safely before her. But gravity returns when she considers the attack, and she spends a few minutes questioning the two, getting the full, true story and probing for anything they can remember about the Yiga attackers. Once finished, she thanks them and addresses Link. "Could I speak with the Princess alone?"

He nods to her, then glances back at Zelda. _Your father will be by to speak with you later_ , he signs, mouthing it as well to help fill the gaps in Zelda's knowledge of the language.

Zelda nods. "Thank you," she says, rather earnestly.

Link offers a short bow to Zelda before exiting the room, and Impa doesn't miss the look that passes between them. It's hesitant, but she's pleased to note that it lacks the friction that had existed before. When the door closes behind Link, Impa gazes at Zelda expectantly, and Zelda turns a little pink.

"I was wrong about him," Zelda says. "I'll freely admit that." She narrows her eyes at Impa. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Absolutely not," Impa says smoothly, one corner of her mouth turned up. Only a little. Link is very close to Zelda's age, and they have been spending plenty of time with Mipha, who is close enough in Zoran estimation, and that is mainly the reason why Impa smiles. Zelda has found friendship in Impa and Urbosa, but rarely with those her own age, and Impa is pleased to see her warming up to another potential friend. "You have your knight very flustered, is all."

Zelda's face becomes thoughtful. "I suppose I may have come on a little strong," she muses. "I've been trying to talk to him and ask him about himself, to rid myself of any unfair assumptions. But perhaps I've frightened him."

Impa snorts. "I don't think 'frightened' is the right word."

"Oh, you know what I mean," Zelda says with a wave of her hand. She falls silent, and her face darkens. She stands like that for a while, ruminating, and Impa doesn't disturb her. "It was a very close call," Zelda says at last, her eyes on the floor. "I hadn't quite realized how dangerous the Yiga are." She pauses, glancing up at Impa with trepidation. "Do you think it's a sign?"

Impa sighs, wishing she could offer an answer that would ease some of the worries on Zelda's face. "I think many things are signs these days." She doesn't say anything about the growing pit in her stomach, the sense that something is looming on the horizon, something more than the fortune-teller's prophecy. She isn't sure whether it's truly a warning granted by her abilities or merely anxiety-driven imagination, and she needs to clear her mind before she tries to make a distinction, needs to rediscover an emotional center that she seems to have lost. "If the Yiga are feeling bold, it doesn't bode well."

Zelda looks troubled, but her face hardens and her shoulders set. "Then we must redouble our efforts on all fronts. We're so close to understanding Divine Beasts and the Guardians, and perhaps we're close to a breakthrough with the shrines as well."

Neither of them say anything about the sealing magic. "I'll ask Robbie to adjust his schedule and clear it of everything save the Guardians, if he can," Impa says instead. "And Purah wants to talk to you about a shrine the researchers discovered on the Great Plateau. It's different from the others." Word had come while Zelda and Link had been out visiting Lady Urbosa and Vah Naboris. "She thinks it's a healing facility."

The news puts a fire in Zelda's eyes, and she immediately peppers Impa with questions. Her infectious enthusiasm eases some of the weight in Impa's stomach, as it is nearly impossible to be in proximity to Zelda without sharing whatever it is she's feeling. Impa has missed this, talking freely and sharing company with Zelda. Lately, they haven't been spending nearly as much time together as they used to, as Zelda's research and training have drawn her to all corners of Hyrule and Impa's growing responsibilities have pulled her endlessly between Hyrule Castle and Kakariko Village. It's starting to become exhausting, and Impa can only hope that everything they're doing is worth it, worth the stress and the distance.

But despite Zelda's enthusiasm, Impa can't shake the growing sense that their efforts are not enough.

* * *

The light of early evening wraps itself around Kakariko, soft and misty. Orange-gold warmth clings to every surface in a last-ditch attempt to stave off the chill of night before the sun sinks past the mountains. Light shimmers off of the waterfalls and the Goddess pond, glistens on the guardian deity statues, sinks into the towering stone that encircles the village. All is quiet, save for a small bustle of people at the east entrance.

“A new age,” Purah muses, critically watching a few warriors maneuver a Guidance Stone into a cart, one of the two that had been salvaged before the flight from Hyrule Castle. “I wonder what they’ll call it in the history books.”

This devolves into an argument between Purah and Robbie about appropriate names for the era that is to come. Impa knows that it is a means of distraction, of forcibly injecting lightheartedness into their dreary new world, and so her usual annoyance at their antics doesn’t surface. Once again, she finds herself watching them prepare to depart, and she doesn't know if it is necessarily better this time. Link is safe within the Shrine of Resurrection, and Purah now seems certain that it will successfully revive and heal him, even if it takes a very long time. Calamity Ganon is restrained and unable to unleash its full fury on the world. They have not entirely failed yet, and they have a chance, however small and far away.

But as the encroaching chill of evening creeps over her skin, Impa feels much wearier than her twenty-seven years.

"In a world as dangerous as ours, are you seriously asking me to travel alone?" Purah's voice draws Impa out of her thoughts. She looks up to see that Purah has cornered Robbie against the cart.

"I'd have to double back after," Robbie sighs, without much fight.

Impa listens to Purah needle Robbie into accompanying her to Hateno and smiles a private smile. The area is one of the safer places in their world right now, thanks to Link and Zelda, and Impa doesn't think it's the danger motivating Purah. For all that her sister likes to put up a front, Purah has never liked being alone. Impa's smile fades. Perhaps, once things have settled down, she will send some aspiring researchers to both Purah and Robbie.

Through an intensive game of rock-paper-scissors, the two had decided that Purah would head to the newly discovered ancient energy source in the Necluda region, while Robbie would make for the one in Akkala. They both intend to continue their research in the hopes of discovering something further, anything that can be of use against the Calamity. They'd agreed with the necessary evil of splitting up - if what's left of the Calamity's influence somehow finds its way to Kakariko, they cannot risk the chance that none of them will be left to assist Link when he awakes.

Of course, none of them may be left anyway, Impa thinks darkly. They are playing a long game against time and the lifespan of the Sheikah, and it is too close, too uncertain to tell right now. But once again, she is pulled abruptly out of her thoughts by Purah. She finds her sister standing before her, speaking loudly. "Hello? Anyone in there, Impy?"

Impa blinks and shakes her head. "You know, when I'm the elder, I'm going to forbid that nickname."

Purah grins fiercely. "You may become the elder, but you'll always be ickle Impy, dearest and littlest sister, to me."

Impa rolls her eyes. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

They fall silent, humor evaporating, and simply stare, committing each other to memory. This is not a temporary parting like the last one. It isn't forever, but it carries an air of finality, and Impa knows that, even though the roads to Hateno are far less fraught with danger than others, their contact will be limited after this. She gazes at her sister and takes note of the way the evening light reflects off of Purah's glasses and shines on her inelegant bun.

"We'll meet again someday," Purah says confidently, as if she believes her own words this time. "I don't know about you, but _I_ intend to live a good long while."

_We will see each other again._

Impa takes a breath, steadying herself. "So do I," she says, and a rush of sorrow grips her. In a swift movement, she pulls Purah into a tight, desperate embrace, and her sister stiffens. However, Purah relaxes and returns the gesture even tighter, nearly lifting Impa off of her feet. She feels Purah's hand come up to cradle the back of her head, all pretense gone, and Impa buries her forehead in her sister's shoulder. "Be careful," she mumbles.

"Aren't I always?"

Impa snorts and pulls away, shaking her head, trying to clear the water in her eyes. Purah practically flees to the cart immediately after, but Impa sees the unshed tears anyway. She says nothing, only turns to Robbie, composing herself and pulling him into a similar hug. "We'll keep the other Guidance Stone safe here," she says, as they pull away. "You can pick it up on the way back, and we'll have your things ready with it."

Robbie nods. "I'll look after her."

"Don't let her bully you too much," Impa says sagely.

Robbie rolls his eyes, but a smile escapes him anyway. Then a more somber look takes up residence on his face as he regards Impa. "I never thanked you, by the way. Everything you did to get us out of the castle... I probably wouldn't even be standing here if it wasn't for you."

Impa accepts the thanks with a nod, then gently steers Robbie towards the cart. "I think Purah's going to start throwing things at us if you don't get going already."

Once again, Impa finds herself standing at the east road, watching Purah and Robbie depart. They disappear around the bend in the canyon, and Impa doesn't move. She stands there for a long time as the sun disappears below the mountains, true twilight blankets Kakariko Village, and the first stars emerge.

She thinks about Link in the Shrine of Resurrection, about Zelda in Hyrule Castle, about Purah in Hateno and Robbie in Akkala. She thinks about the dead that she couldn't protect, about the Champions and the King and the people she couldn't save. She thinks about Kakariko behind her, about the many people who already see her as their next leader. She thinks about Hyrule settling into a precarious balance - into the calm of the storm's eye, the deep breath before the plunge.

In time, it will be known as the age of burning fields, named for an unsteady equilibrium between the rebuilding over scorched earth that the people of the world will manage until some semblance of everyday life is restored and the destruction that Calamity Ganon's influence will attempt to inflict at every turn. Impa knows that she will have to navigate the push-pull between the Calamity and life's natural progression, that the long game will be a difficult one, that a long night and a long watch lies ahead. She knows that the hardest thing will be to simply endure.

But for as long it takes, she can wait.


End file.
